Harder Still
by Lufia1
Summary: Harry Sullivan's funeral, and Sarah Jane can't share her grief properly.


Harder Still  
  
By Lufia  
  
Rating: PG for one word and adult content  
  
Disclaimer: Doctor Who isn't mine. If it were, it'd still be on the air, and lots of happy Daleks would be whizzing about on the telly every Saturday at 5:30. That being said, enjoy the fic!  
  
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September 17, 1986  
  
A chill wind blustered across the crowd, causing several of the figures to shiver, despite the bright, blazing sun shining directly upon them. They stood all in a cluster around a knee-high stone of new white marble, which set off the black of their clothing in a rather disturbing fashion. There was no hole before the stone, since there was no body to inhume.  
  
Sarah Jane Smith kept to the fringe of the group, hoping that it would allow her to keep hold of her emotions more easily. It was all she could do not to break down where she stood. But that would have been most improper. After all, most of the people here didn't have any idea how close she and Harry had been, once. All they knew was that the two had worked together in the seventies and eighties, when they were both assigned to that odd branch of the military called UNIT, each for entirely different reasons, and had landed on the same assignment.  
  
Only two people in the group knew what had happened, and they didn't know all of it. Harry had been her support for that series of adventures, her anchor, her steadfast friend. He'd been closer than a brother to her, and she loved him as dearly as if he had been one.  
  
"Lost at Sea" was a damn unfair way to go, Sarah decided, staring down at the white marble through the black netting on the brim of her hat. The two of them had been "lost in time and space" for the better part of a year, and they'd managed to get home, not only in one piece, but in better shape and demeanor than they'd had when they left. How could he have been "lost at sea?"  
  
She glanced to her right, locking gazes with the one person who probably knew exactly how Harry'd managed to not make it. Brigadier Lethbridge- Stewart, retired from the military for ten years, still managed to keep abreast of his former soldier's business. Even if he didn't know now, the older man need only call in a favor or two to find out. Sarah had every intention of asking him once the funeral was over. The Brigadier offered her a small smile, a warm gesture, mixed with pain of the loss. His way of saying, "Steady on, old thing," Sarah figured. Harry would've just said it, leant over to her and whispered it in her ear, infuriating her and comforting her at the same time.  
  
The service was brief, but touching, and the gathering consisted of only a dozen or so people. Among them, Sarah noticed, Harry's immediate commander from his Navy cruiser, and the Admiral of the fleet. The Brigadier came with a woman Sarah didn't know, but the diamond on her left hand explained her presence almost better than an introduction at this point. Sergeant Benton, also retired, was here also, his daughter beside him. And, of course, Harry's elderly mother, his younger sister standing dutifully behind her wheelchair, with her two children at her side and her husband hovering in the background.  
  
There was one person notably absent from the service, though. The one person in the world who should have been here, besides the family, Sarah thought. He had to know. He was a Time Lord, he could tell these things, couldn't he? She'd called for him herself. Or, at least, she'd asked K9 to try and send a message to his former master. She had no clue if the robotic terrier could actually do that, but it was the best shot she could make.  
  
As the pastor finished his eulogy and closed the Bible cradled in his left hand, Harry's mother finally let out the sob she'd been choking back. The family swarmed around her, and Sarah almost went over to them. Almost. But, they didn't know about her. They didn't know how Harry had saved her life far out in space, on alien worlds, on human space stations so advanced they could have been alien for all intents and purposes. They didn't know how she'd kept him from annoying the Doctor with his cheerful, innocent wonder at the universe, and kept him from holding a grudge when the Doctor did snap at him. They weren't there when Sarah and Harry had been stranded, no idea whether the Doctor would be able to help them in time, and all they had to depend on was each other. They didn't calm his panic attacks when he despaired of ever getting home, of never being able to see his family again. They hadn't rocked him to sleep when he was so ill from alien poison that he'd acted like he was five, and didn't trust anyone because of the hallucinations it invoked.  
  
And so, Sarah only smiled sadly at them, and clasped her hands together before her chest. And, she turned, letting them have a private moment. She didn't interfere. Only when the family moved away from the tombstone for a moment to calm Mrs. Sullivan's heart did she approach the thing that was all she had left to remember her dearest friend by.  
  
"Goodbye, then, Harry," she said quietly. "I suppose you already know how much I miss you. Just don't forget me, right? I expect a warm hug and a, "so there you are, old thing," when I get to heaven." She felt the pressure in her eyes, and she blinked, choking back a sob. "And quit laughing at me for making a scene. I know that's what you're doing up there. God, I miss you."  
  
She lay her hand on the cool marble for the briefest moment, then turned quickly and crunched across the leaf-covered grass toward her car. As much as she hated being the first to leave the funeral, she knew if she didn't excuse herself now, she'd start crying harder than elderly Mrs. Sullivan. And it was their day, not hers, to grieve here. She'd have plenty of time later to come back and do it properly. She caught the Brigadier's gaze as she headed out, and managed a quick smile and nod. He returned the gesture, the tears in his eyes mirroring her own. She didn't even want to see how Benton and the girl were taking it. She was probably too young to understand. And the Navy soldiers wouldn't cry here. Far too stoic a bunch. How Harry had fit in with them….  
  
A flash of red knit behind a tree stopped Sarah's journey instantly. She turned, her attention focused on the little copse of trees on the other side of the gravel car path, and felt the tears begin to fall when a mop of tangled curls poked around the trunks. Now, she ran, skirting around her own car and bee-lining for the bare trees.  
  
"Sarah Jane," the deep voice she'd missed these past few years said. "I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."  
  
Sarah only shook her head, letting the tall man wrap her in his arms and hug her tightly. "I just wish we weren't meeting again because of such a tragedy, Doctor," she said, burying her face in his long, multi-colored scarf, finally letting her tears fall. 


End file.
